You will always have me. You can call me at midnight when the memories are hurting you, we will talk about the stars and appreciate the silence. I will stay up with you all night to talk about the things that bothers you. And if you want to escape at the moment, I will willingly give up my time to run away with you, even if it’s only a quick stroll across the town. I will be there when the world turns its back on you. I will hold you in my arms and stand up for you. I will always, always be right there for you, even if I’m not the one you needed.
You will always have me. You can call me at midnight when the memories are hurting you, we will talk about the stars and appreciate the silence. I will stay up with you all night to talk about the things that bothers you. And if you want to escape at the moment, I will willingly give up my time to run away with you, even if it’s only a quick stroll across the town. I will be there when the world turns its back on you. I will hold you in my arms and stand up for you. I will always, always be right there for you, even if I’m not the one you needed
Harry laughed happily as he landed on the grass. Draco was only seconds behind him clutching the snitch with a massive grin on his face.
“Good one, Draco.”
“Oh, it wasn’t really a good one. Pretty easy actually.” Draco drawled with a smirk.
Harry laughed again as he shoved Draco’s shoulder. “Whatever, that dive was pretty amazing.” Draco’s smirk became a proud smile. “Come on, let’s go eat something. I’m starving!” Harry said.
The smile morphed into a frown. “No. We each won one, it’s a draw. We have to play another.”
Harry grinned at him. “Let’s leave it a draw.”
Draco arched a brow. “Scared Potter?”
Laughing, Harry slung an arm around his friends shoulders. “Yes, scared you’ll pout and ignore me all day when I beat you.”
Draco sniffed. “First of all, I am not so petty. And who says you’d win anyway? So arrogant, Harry.”
Harry laughed and squeezed his friend in a hug. “Yeah. I’m the arrogant here, Draco.”
Draco gently bumped the side of his head against Harry’s as they walked to the castle. “So long as you know.”
On the following Sunday they found themselves trudging through a mountain of homework, much to Harry’s displeasure. Ron and Hermione had gone for a picnic on the grounds, since Hermione always made sure they were up to date on their work. Sighing Harry dropped his head heavily against the couch. Draco, who was curled up in the corner of the couch next to him, looked up with an arched brow. “Giving up already?”
Harry groaned and closed his eyes. “Yes.” He jerked up when he felt Draco flick him between the eyes. “Hey!” He protested, rubbing the sore spot with his fingers.
“You’d better keep going. Don’t think that you can leave it and get me to help you just because Granger won’t let you fly until it’s done.” He went back to looking at his book.
Harry turned to him with wide eyes. “That is a fantastic idea.” When Draco just let out a soft laugh but otherwise ignored him, Harry moved so he could lie leaning comfortably against Draco’s side. He closed his eyes and let out a relieved sigh.
“Potter!” Draco groaned. “I am absolutely not doing your work for you.” But he didn’t move or shove Harry off, which Harry knew he wouldn’t. After several blissful minutes, right when Harry was sure he was on the cusp of a wonderful dream, he fell to the floor as Draco stood up. He pointed a finger accusingly at Harry, “Do some work, Harry. Or we will go to the library.”
Sighing in defeat, Harry sat up and faced his books once more.
Hours later they were sitting in front of the crackling fire eating Bertie Botts beans. Draco was sprawled across a single seat with his legs hanging across the side while Harry sat on the floor with his legs crossed and back against Draco’s seat. Draco had the box of beans and alternated between taking one and lowering the box for Harry.
Ron and Hermione entered the common room with cheerful greetings. Harry appreciated everyone’s efforts to get along, since he knew it was only for his sake, but he did wish his three best friends were more than just polite to one another.
“Did you have a good picnic?” Draco asked them.
“Oh, yes it was lovely thanks.” Hermione smiled at him. Ron nodded a bit awkwardly at him.
“Oh, Harry. You’ll never guess what.” Ron started, and Hermione shot him a suspicious look. “We saw Terry there, he was in the middle of a big fight, seems like him and his boyfriend broke up.” Hermione’s look of suspicion became one of horror as she tugged on Ron’s hand. Harry’s stomach dropped as he willed Ron not to continue. But he did. “So he’s single now, and you can finally ask him out. I know you used to have a massive crush on him.”
Harry closed his eyes, but the thick silence wouldn’t be ignored. He was so glad he couldn’t see Draco’s expression at that moment. There had been a hundred moments when he meant to come out to Draco. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed or anything. It was just that he really enjoyed their friendship. He didn’t know how they’d become so
comfortable touching each other all the time, but he was scared that it would change if Draco knew. He opened his eyes to find Ron looking from him to Hermione with confusion brewing in his eyes. Hermione was watching Draco carefully, which could only mean that he most definitely wasn’t looking at them.
Harry sighed internally. He cleared his throat. “Uh, thanks.”
Hermione looked at him pitifully and quickly started talking about their day, filling the silence as best she could. She asked about how their studies went, Harry responded and Draco said a word or two.
After suffering through it as long as he could, Harry wished everyone good night. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Draco as he left, but let his hand trail along his shoulder as he walked passed.
The next morning, Harry lingered in bed. If he could, he’d avoid seeing Draco all day. Unfortunately, his last class was potions where they were partners. At breakfast he managed to get away with only a smile and a wave since Draco sat at the Slytherin table still. Harry tried hard to focus on his lessons all day, but he couldn’t deny he was nervous to see him.
When he arrived in potions at the end of the day, Draco was already there with all the ingredients for the days potion. He was chopping furiously when Harry reached him. “Hi, Draco.” He said nervously, fidgeting with the strap on his bag.
“Hi, Potter.” Draco glanced up with a small smile. After a few seconds he rolled his eyes. “Are you going to help or do you expect me to do all the work?”
Harry could have laughed with relief, but he didn’t. He gave Draco a grateful smile which was returned with a small quirk of the lips and they got to work.
The rest of the lesson passed in the same manner as the ones before. After, they walked together to dinner and Harry felt relieved. Until he couldn’t find Draco anywhere after dinner. He went to bed with a sinking feeling.
The week passed in the same pattern. The only time that Harry really saw Draco was during potions, his behavior seemingly unchanged. But Harry missed him. After potions on Friday Harry had had enough. As they walked together to dinner he blurted out. “Where have you been all week?” Grey eyes glanced up from the floor to meet his before flickering away. “I can never find you after dinner.” He said accusingly.
Draco answered softly. “I’ve had detention every day.”
“What?” Harry asked, reaching out to grab Draco’s arm. “For what?”
Turning to face Harry, Draco sighed. “You know how it is, some teachers will make up reasons to punish me.”
Harry frowned and opened his mouth to express his outrage when Draco gave him a defeated smile. “It doesn’t matter. Okay?”
Harry deflated. Draco twitched his arm awkwardly and Harry realized he was still holding him. He let go quickly but noticed the blush on Draco’s cheeks.
He deflated a little more.
On Saturday morning when Harry returned from breakfast he found Draco in the common room with his homework. After fetching his own, he sank down on the couch next to him.
Draco shifted to make more room for him.
After working for a little while Draco got up to get a different textbook and settled down again on the single couch. Harry frowned. He wouldn’t have thought anything about it before, but..
He sighed heavily and tried to focus on his work.
The next day he found himself working alone in the library. When he returned to the common room he found Draco curled up on the single couch with a book. He looked up when Harry entered and frowned slightly. “Where were you today?” He asked.
Harry shrugged, struggling to meet his eyes. “Thought I’d concentrate better in the library.” He moved to walk past where Draco was sitting, when Draco’s hand shot out as if to grab his hand but stopped suddenly, quivered in the air for a moment before disappearing just as fast.
Harry hesitated briefly. With a disappointed sigh he carried on walking.
“Harry.” Draco said.
Harry half turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. Draco cleared his throat. “Would you like to go fly for a bit?” Harry frowned skeptically, unsure of what how he wanted to respond. “There’s enough time for at least one game to end our draw before the light goes.” Draco said, smiling uncertainly. And that’s what got to Harry.
“Yeah, alright.” He answered finally.
The walk to the quidditch pitch was filled with awkward silence. At least it was for Harry. Once they were flying though, Harry felt better.
The light started to go quickly and Harry was scanning rather desperately for the snitch, it was the one he had caught in first year and he was rather sentimental about it. A glint of gold caught his eye and he dove toward it. As he neared it he saw Draco coming in from a different angle, slightly ahead of him. He pushed forward, urging his broom to go faster. At the last moment, he realized Draco would get there first and Harry would barrel into him soon after. Unfortunately, the last moment didn’t give him enough time to stop or change direction. All he could do was slow down to soften the impact.
Thankfully they were low to the ground so when they tumbled over one another and onto the grass, it wasn’t too hard a fall. They rolled and Harry landed half on Draco’s chest with a massive groan. Draco was gasping heavily. Harry lifted himself to quickly pat Draco down for injuries and once he was satisfied that he was fine he fell half onto Draco’s chest again. They caught their breath in silence.
It was the happiest Harry had been all week. Until Draco said, “Two one, Potter.” Harry looked up to see Draco clutching the snitch with a triumphant grin. He laughed and pushed himself up onto an elbow.
“You can’t tell me this one was an easy win.” Harry teased.
“No, I can’t.” Draco chuckled and smiled at Harry. Harry smiled back, happy to have his friend back. He noticed the pink tinge on Draco’s cheeks as Draco’s eyes flickered away and he shifted awkwardly. Harry sat up quickly and Draco scooted away from Harry. His heart sank.
Draco cleared his throat, “Well, let’s go back.” He stood up and retrieved his broom. Harry sat there with his knees bent and his elbows resting on his knees, drowning in unhappiness. He wasn’t going to get his easy friendship back. Draco had walked a few paces back toward the castle when he turned around. “Harry?” He said tentatively.
Harry sighed. “I can’t do this, Draco.” He shoved his hands in his hair and looked away, frustrated.
Draco frowned and came back. “What do you mean?” He asked softly.
“I mean I want you to just freak out about the fact that I didn’t tell you and be honest if you have a problem with who I am. I can’t take this dancing around it. I miss you.” He bit his lip to stop himself. After a long pause he looked up to find Draco staring at him in shock.
“You think I have a problem with who you are?” He asked quietly, which set warning bells off in Harry’s head. “You think I’ve been acting strange because I don’t accept this part of you.” He added. Then he laughed, a self deprecating sound that Harry knew well. Draco lifted a hand to his forehead. “Why wouldn’t you? It’s the obvious conclusion.” He laughed again, a little hysterically this time, which broke Harry out of his daze. He stood up and slowly approached him.
“Well, if it’s not that then what is it?” He asked.
Draco closed his eyes briefly before meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry watched a flush creep up his neck as he seemed to search for words. “Well, I couldn’t exactly be mad at you for not telling me when I’ve been keeping the exact same secret.” His cheeks were a deep pink now. Harry’s ears were ringing.
“What?” He whispered, disbelieving.
Draco gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry.” Harry could only stare at him. Draco swallowed nervously. “Anyway, I was trying to find the right time to tell you about me. But, as you know, it’s not easy.” He laughed awkwardly again. “And somehow knowing about you made my little crush seem less impossible which is stupid, really I know, so I was just giving myself a bit of space to dispel that illusion. That’s why I got detention everyday. I couldn’t focus, I was useless in class.” His gaze was flickering from Harry’s shoulder, his collar to his throat. Anywhere but his eyes. After a fortifying breath Draco added. “Our friendship is important to me. I didn’t want to mess it up.”
Harry was confused. He was shocked. But he knew that that made him happy. He pulled Draco towards him and wrapped him in a tight hug. “I missed you, you idiot.”
Draco melted into the hug which made Harry’s heart soar. They stood like that for a long time. Eventually Draco pulled back, much to Harry’s regret. Harry searched his gaze. “It’s not impossible, you know. Or an illusion.” He whispered.
Draco’s breath caught. Harry smiled at him. “I don’t think.” Harry amended. But as he watched the moonlight play over Draco’s features he thought it was probably extremely possible. Probable in fact.
Draco watched Harry watch him for the longest time. His look of shock slowly abated until Harry was staring at Draco’s trademark smirk. “You’d better not think that counts as asking me out, because my standards are considerably higher than that.” Harry laughed and Draco smiled before adding, “I’m serious.” With that he turned and started toward the castle. Harry scrambled to catch up.
“I’ll write a poem.” He said.
Draco groaned. “Please don’t. I’m pretty set on saying yes. Don’t make that hard for me to do.”
Harry grinned. Feeling bold, he reached out to grab Draco’s hand as they walked forward. He let out a content sigh when Draco laced their fingers together.
The words filtered through his brain like liquid fire, he was hurting, and it burned, but.. god there were ashes, there was hope.
There had to be a reason, something so painful and difficult it made raindrop tears gather in the corner of Betty Coopers haunted green eyes.
“I love you, I don’t think I can stop.”
She loved him, she had said so surrounded by his new family and his old, dirt under his boots and that flimsy white tank top that made it hard for Jughead not to run his fingers over the bare skin of her arms. She looked like something out of a dream, The Beautiful and wholesome Sandra Dee to his double edged, hard knock life Danny Zuko. She was holding something though, something so heavy he could practically see the physical weight of the burden on her shoulders.
She was pressed against the glass window of Reggie Mantles slick black camaro, teeth tearing into the soft skin of her perfectly pink lips. She wasn’t speaking and neither was he, both teens were thoroughly shook from the events that had just taken place. They were scared, and…damn it seemed like they both had reasons to be, it was about time Jughead found out Betty’s.
The car jolted to a stop, Betty snapping forward, her eyes quickly landing on Jugheads.
“What’s the matter?! What’s happening?! we can’t just stop, the police!” She was frantic, her fingers reaching for her cell phone as “unknown” flashed on the screen for the third time in the past fifteen minutes.
“Call it a pit stop, you wanna answer that call Betty?” Jugheads voice was calm and level, every nerve of his body was vibrating but he was calm on the outside. They were going to talk about this and they were going to talk about it now.
The ringing came to an abrupt stop and Betty dropped the phone to the space between the seats
“No.” She whispered “No I’m not.” Her eyes catching his, if he wanted to talk about it She was ready, he could tell from the flicker in her eyes.
“You said..” Jughead cleared his throat, mouth dry with anxiety “you said that I wouldn’t understand, that you were trying to protect me? Betty who are you protecting me from?”
The beautiful blonde in the seat beside him took an audibly shaky breath, her fingers twisting together as she stared down at her hands before she began
“I’ve been getting… calls. I’ve been getting calls from the black hood, a lot of calls.” She whispered, the words sounding almost robotic as she repeated what she had told Veronica “you remember the letter? How he said he’s doing this all for me? Well, he meant it, when I talk to him, when I listen to him, he doesn’t hurt anyone, he doesn’t kill. I’m stopping him, but only if I listen. He…” Betty released her fingers placing a hesitant hand on Jugheads arm, not surprised to see the anger in his eyes. “He said he would hurt you unless I cut everything off. He won’t leave me alone. He… he’s obsessed with me.”
It was a silent for a moment, processing time, no time to think, just absorb, take it in.
But only for a second.
His lips were on hers, his fingers threading through her ponytail as he knocked the tiny red bandana from her hair. He was whispering something against her lips, it sounded like a prayer as he pushed his forehead against hers.
“I love you.” He whispered “I’m sorry.”
Betty’s hands came up to cup his cheeks
“I love you, don’t be sorry. I’m sorry I sent Archie, I couldn’t face you. I knew… I knew you would be able to tell, I knew that you would know I was lying. You know me Jughead, better than anyone else.”
The young Serpents face contorted into something of pure anguish
“I don’t though, I gave up on you. I stopped believing in you, in us. Betty I have to tell you something.” His voice cracked, a broken sound that ripped right through Betty’s heart, a worried frown marring her perfect features.
“It’s okay.” She whispered, fingers stroking his cheeks “it’s okay, you can tell me.”
He couldn’t look at her, not after this, not after everything seemed to be falling into place for the moment and he was about to destroy whatever peace they had made.
“Me and Toni… we kissed, we kissed more than once.” The words fell from his lips, his eyes searching hers desperately for something, anything.
Slowly but agonizingly painful her fingers slipped from his face, her body pushing closer to the Camaros door.
“I saw you.” She whispered a far away look in her eyes “at Pops, with her, just the day after. You were happy, she makes you happy.”
“No!” Jughead came close to wailing “no, it’s not like that. She’s my friend, she knows I could never be over you. Betty I love you. It was a heat of the moment thing. I thought you were gone. You make me happy, I love you Betty Cooper.” He dropped his forward to hers, tears falling to his cheeks and onto the leather of his jacket. He pulled her closer, the emergency brake digging into her thigh.
After a few moment of painful silence that seemed to go on for hours, Betty spoke
“We have things we need to work on. We have things we still need to talk about, work through, but… I’m here and so are you and I think… I know we can get through this… together.” Her eyes finally found his, sadness still there but something new, something familiar.
She was Tired. Tired of fighting it, tired of being away from him. Just tired, and so was he and there was still a war going on, still things being thrown at them from every direction but…
What if aliens don’t have different seasons on their planets? What if Humans are the only ones? Imagine the first aliens who come to Earth coming at the end of winter, then it starts getting hotter out and they think the world is ending.
“Human-Sarah, we must leave this place!” Klo'sa yelled. “Come with me on my ship, you’ll be safe there!”
“Huh? Why? What happened?” Sarah replied nervously as she started to pack.
“Your planets sun must’ve gotten bigger or come closer. Your planets climate has changed!”
Sarah stopped packing her bags and, after a couple moments of silence, doubled over laughing. She grabbed Klo'sa by one of his large claws and pulled him by the couch, gesturing for him to sit down. Xe was visibly anxious, but followed the Human’s orders.
“Look, my planet isn’t like your planet,” Sarah explained. “Mine changes the climate all the time. That’s why we have seasons; fall, winter, spring, and summer. Right now, it’s the beginning of spring, when it rains a lot and starts to get warmer out. You came here during the winter, when it snows and can get really cold, depending on where you live. Fall is the opposite of spring, and summer is the opposite of winter, basically.”
The “Just the thought of Team Cap walking all over Tony makes me want to trash my room, I just want unashamed, biased, pro-Tony quality content, is that too much to ask??” inspired ficlet I’ve been holding back for a while:
Bitterness ahead, guys. Not Team Cap friendly. Nor is it particularly deep or rational. I just wanted to get a couple of thoughts out of my head. Basically Tony is done being the team’s sugar daddy, only it comes to light in a very roundabout way.
“When are my arrows gonna be fixed anyways?” Clint grumbles, rubs a hand over his sore shoulder. The one that wouldn’t have gotten injured, had his shot hit the target it was supposed to. Which it should have, his aim had been fine. The problem were the arrows. Someone must have screwed up somewhere in the production because they weren’t perfectly balanced.
They’re sitting in the conference room at the (mostly) restored compound. Tony is tapping away on his StarkPad, not even bothering to look up. He must have felt the questioning glances and noticed the silence, but he still doesn’t react.
Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes. He doesn’t want to encourage the tension between them, things are bad enough as it is. If only Tony would put in some effort as well, instead of going out of his way to antagonise them, maybe they could make some actual progress.
“Yo, Stark!” Clint snaps, voice reaching that biting sharpness he reserves specially for the billionaire. “I’m talking to you!”
Tony shows no outward reaction, which is strange to see. Back when they first came back, he used to move at all times, sharp and erratic, never staying still. Steve shakes his head at their unnecessary power play.
Tony answers before he has the chance to reprimand them though. “How would I know?” he asks, a brief frown flittering across his face as he scribbles something down onto the tablet.
The outraged look on Clint’s face tells everyone present that this meeting won’t get back on track any time soon. It’s understandable, really. Clint has been forced to fight three battles with faulty equipment and frankly, the lack of concern Tony is showing for his team mates’ safety is nothing short of callous. Steve knows things haven’t been good between them but this is the first time he wonders if things could really be so bad, that Tony would hold necessary equipment back on purpose.
It’s a terrible thought, but try as he might, Steve isn’t able to shake it off.
At least the rising tension finally causes Tony to look up and meet Clint’s glare. He’s wearing sunglasses even though they’re inside, like he always does. Steve doesn’t like it. Makes it harder to read Tony, to tell what he’s really thinking. Absently, he admits that this is probably why Tony wears them so religiously.
“What do you mean ‘how would you know’?!” Clint snarls, enraged. “My arrows have been acting up for weeks and you still don’t know how to fix it?!”
Tony stares at Clint, the expression on his face unreadable. Then, after a long, long moment of heavy silence, the answer.
“I’m not fixing your equipment.”
For a moment, it’s deadly quiet, as Steve struggles to process the meaning of what Tony has just said.
“Tony,” Steve hastily inserts himself as soon as he finds his voice again, before Clint can throw himself across the room and deck him, “I know there are still some issues we all have to work through, but that’s not an excuse to-”
“Hold it right there, Rogers,” Tony interrupts. It’s never Cap, always Rogers these days. The pain the distinction causes still catches Steve by surprise more often than not. “I’m not sure where you get this from but I’m not your mechanic. I don’t work for you. So if Barton here has an issue with his weapons, he needs to take it up with the people in charge. Considering how often you remind me that it’s not me, you’d think you’d have figured that part out already.”
“But it’s not working!”
Tony sighs. The deep, heavy sort of sigh you usually expect from an exhausted parent after their insistent child asks, “Are we there yet?” for the 34th time. “Then take it up with the quartermaster. Or Agent Hudson. Or one of the techies. Seriously, Barton, you signed the Revision. Who’s responsible for what is right in there, section 12 to 17. Besides-” he pauses.
“What are you waiting for? Go on!” Clint demands between gritted teeth, hands curled into tight fists. Thankfully, he’s not throwing anything. Yet. “Don’t get shy with me now!”
Tony straightens in his seat. Steve inwardly sighs. That man has never been able to let a challenge go unanswered.
“Besides,” Tony continues, voice still surprisingly even, “chances are they’re working just fine.”
“You think I can’t tell when my bow isn’t fucking working the way it should?” Clint bristles.
The words actually cause Tony to lower his sunglasses for a moment, just to make sure there is no doubt about how stupid he believes Clint to be. “I’m saying you’re operating with a standard bow, Barton. The fabric and the construction limit the performance quality. Something I’m sure an experienced archer like yourself has picked up on.”
And yes, things are definitely getting ugly. That level of glacial cold in Tony’s voice is rarely achieved, even now.
“The why the fuck did you build a subpar bow?”
Tony sighs again. “You’re missing the point. Seriously, I can not believe we’re even having this conversation. I did not build that bow, Barton.”
And that’s–that’s a surprise.
Tony’s gaze trails over them all, taking in their confused, shocked expressions. “Really?” he asks, exasperation dripping from every syllable. “Did any of you even read the Revision? The Avengers’ are an official unit. Their weapons and uniforms can’t be provided by a private party, especially not one who is part of the team. Have you ever heard the term conflict of interest?”
“What about Stark Industries?” Natasha asks. From the furrow in her brows though, Steve suspects she already knows the answer–and doesn’t like it one bit.
“I’m not sure if you noticed,” and now there’s no mistaking the mocking in Tony’s tone, “but SI doesn’t sell weapons anymore. It was kind of a big thing, couple of years back.”
“But- But yours are better!” Clint splutters. It sounds plaintive and weak, even in Steve’s ears, but at the same time he knows what Clint’s struggling to say. It’s not about getting your toys taken away. It’s about their safety and efficiency in the field. On bad days, it’s about the survival of their entire planet.
“I can’t believe you would risk the teams’ lives and safety like this because of a petty argument,” Steve says, unable to keep quiet any longer, nor bothering to hide the honest disappointment.
Tony, unimpressed as always, simply snorts. “You’re an official unit, but before that you’ve been working for SHIELD for years. Did you ever have the very best equipment mankind was capable of providing at the time? No,” he answers his own question in a breeze, “you didn’t. Why? Because you’re agents, soldiers. And sure, the government wants to protect us, wants to keep us alive and make sure our missions succeed. But they have limited funding, which means everyone has to deal with the best cost-efficient option available. If you’ve got the right connections to get something more, then lucky you, but that makes you an exception, not a rule.”
“You don’t need to explain real life to me!” Clint snaps aggravated.
“Then why do you feel entitled to something better?” That question, sharp and cutting, makes the archer still, his mouth open but with no retort forthcoming. Tony is blinking at him now, head tilted sideways in child-like curiosity.
“Of course, if I, as a private citizen, decided to build something that doesn’t violate any laws and give it to a friend as a gift, that would be something else, wouldn’t it?” Tony continues after a moment, voice softer now, but no less cutting. His eyes are fixated on Clint, sunglasses pushed back, eyes dark and unmoved. “The average update would take me what, a week or two? That’s a lot of time to invest into a single project, especially when the ultimate use is so limited. How many people can possibly profit from improved protective vest versus how many people improve from an exploding arrow is a really fascinating comparison to make.”
“So you see, Barton, even if I could improve your bow, there’s no logical reason why I should waste my time like this.”
“Tony!” Steve interrupts, scandalised. “Clint’s life depend on his aim! Our lives depend on it! How can you justify not providing him with the most basic necessities.”
Tony doesn’t even try and look abashed, instead he throws his head back and laughs. “This is how you want to play it, Rogers? Because I’m rich and a genius, I owe it to you to devote my time, attention and money to bettering your lives? What about the seven billion other people on this world? Don’t they deserve the same consideration, hm? What makes you so special that I should put your needs before anything else?”
Steve opens his mouth, but Tony doesn’t give him a chance to speak.
“I tell you what this is: this is you realising I’m no longer spoiling you rotten because you are in fact not my kids and I can cut you off whenever the fuck I want. And you don’t like it. Because guess what, I may be privileged, but so are you! You’re heroes, most of the time, as far as the world is concerned. You’ve been living off my money and resources on top of that. You’ve always gotten special treatment and you like that. You’re as far detached from the ‘ordinary man on the street’ as I am, you just don’t have the self-awareness to fucking notice!”
Tony sends them a sardonic smile that does in no way take the sting out of his words. “Don’t worry,” he says, “you’ll still be special. It’s just no longer my name footing that bill. Because we’re not friends. And as a business man, I’m not at all sorry to tell you that you simply aren’t worth investing into.”
And with that he stands, all blinding press smile, sweeps around dramatically, and strides purposefully out of the room. The automatic door closes noiselessly behind him, but he might have as well slammed it shut for all the difference it would’ve made.
It’s likely not a coincidence, that on their next mission Spiderman, Vision and Miss Marvel all showcase new, incredibly features and weapons that can’t have been created by anyone else. And it’s impossible to know for sure, what with the mask on, but Steve is one hundred per cent certain that Spiderman is smirking at them.
He is not wrong.
Let me know what you think? And please excuse any mistakes, I’ll re-read this tomorrow. Also this is the last post for today. I’m tiredtiredtired now and think I’ve spread enough bitterness for the day. And spammed your dashes with enough endless posts probably…oops.
what if Evan followed Conner and stopped him from killing himself? then they got together…. (sorry i’m tree bros trash)
((Don’t worry I am too))
“Fuck this, I’m outta here.” Connor crumpled the paper into his pocket and ran out of the library. Evan stuffed his laptop in his backpack and dashed out after Connor.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Connor!” Evan yelled, running to the student parking lot to see Connor crying, leaning against the tree. “What are you doing?”
“What the fuck do you want, Hansen? You want more dirt on me to let people know I’m crazy? Well here’s the biggest piece of information I have–” he took out a pocket knife and held the blade to his arm. Evan’s eyes widened.
“Woah woah woah hey, wait!” He struggled, but managed to pull Connor’s arm away from the blade. Connor was weak, letting out wracking sobs.
“No one cares, no one would blink a fucking eye if I were gone.” Connor threw down the knife. “Everything’s always about Zoe. How perfect she is, how wonderful she is. Nothing I do ever matters.” He covered his face, falling down to the ground. Evan burned red from embarrassment.
“I didn’t–I don’t. I didn’t write the letter because you were in the library. I wrote the letter for therapy. They’re supposed to be little pep talks. Dear Evan Hansen, today’s gonna be a good day and here’s why. Zoe’s someone I look up to because she’s in jazz band and she’s pretty, yeah. But don’t think for a second that I wouldn’t be heartbroken if you were gone.” Evan said. The two were in Bio together and made snarky remarks about the teacher to each other. “B-before you say anything, I know how it feels to think that no one would care if you were gone.”
Connor sniffed. “You do?”
“How do you think I got this cast?” Evan stumbled over his words.
“You fell out of a tree, I got it. The saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” Connor winced at how snarky the comeback came out.
“No. I climbed a tree, a really, really tall tree.” Evan breathed in a laugh. “I looked down, and I let go. I wanted to die, but I have this six week reminder and scars all down my left side that I survived.”
“I-I’m sorry..” Connor said after a moment of silence. Evan shrugged, wiping away a tear.
“It’s in the past, I guess.” Evan whispered. “I don’t think you’re crazy.”
“Why would I? I’m the one taking medicine up the ass, and I fell out of a tree.” Evan laughed, making Connor chuckle. “I got some mad splinters though. Hey, if you can answer the door, we can order in a movie and a pizza, I don’t want you being alone tonight.”
“Oh you don’t have to–”
“I insist.” Evan grinned. “I can help you with your English, and we can watch something funny to keep your spirits up.”
Connor was already glad Evan helped make him decide to stay.
Long context: In a 5e game, we’re being pursued on a carriage by a group of Fell bats in the middle of an undead siege on the city. The party has whittled it down to the last bat.
Our Paladin is the son of Bahamut, and must spread his religion to prove his worth to his father. To do this, a book has been created, and our Paladin wears a robe that will magically conjure one of the books every time he reaches into it and says the phrase, “Have I got a book for you!”
DM: The last Bat is still pursuing you. [Paladin], you’re up.
Paladin: Well, I don’t want to hold action again since my breath weapon is out. I’m going to try to evangelize the bat to my religion!
DM: It doesn’t understand common.
Paladin: Shit. Well, I guess I can throw a book at it.
*A moment of stunned silence as we all take in what he just suggested*
DM: (attempting to suppress his giggling) Okay. Roll a strength improvised weapon throw.
Paladin: I got… a 21 total.
DM: (giggling maniacally) That hits! Roll damage.
DM: (trying not to laugh hysterically) You hear the voice of your father in your head, whispering “Use the book…”
Paladin: (dramatically) I reach into my robes, and shout the phrase “Have I got a book for you!”, and on ‘you’, I frisbee the book as hard as I can!
DM: The book has a beautiful curve to it, arcing gracefully through the rain, water cascading from its’ spinning surface. You watch as it moves and intercepts the bat, perfectly hitting it in the face, crushing its’ skull and killing it instantly.
Party: *bursts out into hysterical laughter*
Fighter: (me, imitating the DM’s Bahamut voice) [Paladin], you idiot! That’s not how you evangelize!
Paladin: (laughing and fighting back tears) I just wanted you to be proud of me!
Needless to say, our Paladin used his book to successfully convert many that night.
Okay...weird shit happejed to you throuout yojr life, but has anything happened on Halloween specifically (other than you selling your soul to a demon)
Alright, it’s time for the requested and promised Ouija Board Story™
Listen, before I start this I wanna put a REALLY STRONG trigger warning on it- I really, truly recommend you not read this if you’ve been affected by suicide or get very easily freaked out by thoughts of death and the afterlife. I am not fucking kidding around here, okay? Someone in my family killed themselves over the summer and I’ve been trying so hard to not think about this whole event, because it’s terrifying to imagine anyone I know in this situation. Really think about it before you keep reading, okay? While this is an interesting and cool story I’m posting for Halloween, I don’t wanna get anyone too freaked out. If you think this is gonna mess with you or sit with you, just keep scrolling.
This happened in 2015. My friend Zoe (@commando-rogers) decided to have some friends over for Halloween, because like, who doesn’t want plans on Halloween, right? Also there was Alexa (@starshiprangpr), Patricia (@trishaslats), Liz, and Ian (I don’t know if they have accounts if they do I’ll add them later). I’ve known these guys for years, so it was sure to be a fun night.
Now, like. I’m bored with life. I’m freshly 20 years old. It’s Halloween. I’m dressed like Mabel Pines. I’m ready to fucking party. And we did have, you know, regular, normal fun at first- ate junk food, joked around, stuff like that. Average hangout. But then, a few hours into the night…Zoe pulls out a fucking Ouija Board.
I’m immediately on the other side of the room, tbh. I’m very interested in paranormal stuff, and I was raised Catholic, and I’m also not a dumbass, so I know not to fuck around with Ouija Boards. You just don’t use them, ever! It’s never a good idea! Even if nothing talks to you through it, you’re still opening yourself up for something to happen. But I also knew this was five against one, so I didn’t stand much of a chance complaining. I conceded to watching whatever happens from a safe distance on the couch and not actually touching the board. Lord knows, I insisted, with my luck? Touching the board will get my ass possessed.
The girls seemed to somewhat agree with me on that- Ian was the only person who agreed to use the board with Zoe. Ian’s a very smart, logical guy, you know, like the token genius asshole friend that you love to death even if he gets a little condescending occasionally? Love the guy. But he was pretty sure it was all bs and nothing would happen, versus Zoe’s deep belief in the paranormal, so they made a bit of a weird pair working the board. I remember texting my friend Raychel about what was about to happen, and getting the response “YOU MOTHER FUCKING WHITE PEOPLE FIT ALL THE HORROR MOVIE ARCHTYPES GET YOUR BULLSHIT TOGETHER AND DONT DO THIS”. And I agreed with her, honestly, but I did actually have a strong curiosity to see if anything would happen. Zoe had told me all about her trying to use the board by herself before (bad!!! idea!!!)- she said she never got any words out of the board, but her camera or phone or whatever she was trying to film the session with would always malfunction or die unexpectedly. No one expected what happened though.
Now, before I really start, I wanna say- could this have all been an elaborate hoax by Ian or Zoe? Sure. Absolutely. Believe that if you want- but Zoe was so freaked out and even got all shook when we were going over details the other day, and Ian seemed really rocked, and honestly I can’t think of anything they’d get out of keeping up a ruse on it for two years now, especially when people they’re good friends with were literally crying during this mess, so…I really don’t think this was fake. Like, I want to believe it was fake. As I mentioned in the trigger warning, this has really stuck with me and been bugging me as of late, so if one of them suddenly fessed up that it was a prank? I would fucking jump for joy! But it doesn’t look like that’s the case (otherwise, they’re just, you know, dicks by this point). So, anyway, whether you believe it or not, just know that I am absolutely not lying about anything that happened in this story. I’m recounting everything truthfully.
Okay, so…Ouija Boards have rules, you know? You have to be polite, say hello and goodbye even if nothing speaks to you, you have to keep at least two fingers on the planchette and ‘charge’ the piece, I’m not going over all the guidelines right now. And also, when a living person is manipulating the planchette…Like, you can tell. You can feel it. Zoe and Ian charged the piece, we all said hello, and we waited in silence.
Zoe asked ‘Is there anybody here?’
Nothing happened for a long moment, but then…the planchette slowly started sliding towards ‘YES’.
Ian was trying to look like his eyes weren’t wide, and going ‘Zoe! Zoe are you moving it!’ but Zoe was already having a mild freak out, her voice higher then normal and repeating ‘Holy shit holy shit holy shit!’ (like I said…she’s a deep believer in the paranormal).
When it finally landed on yes, she took a deep breath and tried to seem a bit, I guess, politer. “Um, okay, hi, I’m Zoe? This is Ian and our other friends. What’s your name?”
Patricia made some joke about the name but got shushed.
“Are you…usually in my house?”
“Are you…here for someone?”
We’ve only been at this for a few minutes and there was already that feeling in the air- you know, the one that gets over described every time anyone recounts a paranormal experience? Just a heavy feeling in the air, a twisted feeling in your gut, the feeling that someone is right behind you. Tension was building even though nothing had really happened to warrant it yet.
“Who are you here for, Kevin?”
The planchette starts to slide towards the ‘I’. Cue to five girls yelling “IAN” in high pitched, worried (and some teasing) voices as the boy in question’s eyes are flying out of his head.
It spells out the rest of his name. Zoe asks, “Is there anything you want to say to Ian?”
Me, an asshole who needed to cut some tension before she got sick: “Hello from the other side~~~~~~”.
Pillows were thrown at me.
The board respelled ‘Hello’.
I will literally never forget the awkward forced smile on Ian’s face, or the raised eyebrows, or the way his confused voice cracked when he said, “…Hi, Kevin?”
“How do you know Ian?”
Ian looked at is, giving an insistent whisper of “I don’t know any dead Kevins!”
That had us all stumped for a few moments, before “Do you think maybe like, past lives?”
Zoe asked Kevin if that was right. The planchette flew to the ‘YES’.
“So Ian was your friend in his past life then? Who was he?”
“Evan! So how did Evan die?”
“Oh. Were you, like…with him?”
“How did you die then?”
Nothing happened for a few minutes, the piece didn’t move an inch. They recharged it and Zoe tried again. “Was that a rude question? Do you not want to talk about that?”
“I’m so sorry, we’re not trying to be rude.”
We started brainstorming for better questions (Zoe or Ian had to be the ones to formally ask, though).
“Where were you from?”
“And what year did Ian die?”
(I’m going to admit here that I can’t remember the exact year, it was definitely around the 1920′s or 30′s, though. We all thought it was a bit odd that the death year wasn’t exactly close to Ian’s birth year)
“What year did you die?”
He spelled out the same year.
“Oh? Um…how long after Evan did you die?”
A long pause, and then: …W…E…E…K.
“But you didn’t reincarnate like Ian?”
The board fell silent again. They recharged. “Sorry. Um…Why did you decide to find Ian in his current life?”
Before we could all start flat out cooing at that, it kept going, spelling out ‘…S…A…F…E.’
“Oh, so you’re his guardian angel?”
No response. “Okay…How did you know Ian was Evan?”
(cue everyone going ‘awwwww’) “You have the same eyes when you reincarnate?”
“So…what were you doing before Ian was born?”
It fell silent again.
“Kevin? We’re sorry?”
“What did you mean by ‘close’ to a guardian angel? Are you not an angel?”
“So…what are you, then?”
“Okay, sorry. Um…Is anyone else here with you?”
“Who’s here with you?”
WHEN I TELL YOU WE SCREAMED. No one was Goddamn prepared for an answer like that! We’re just a bunch of asshole teens! None of us actually wanna die! What the fuck!!!!
While we were all busy freaking out and trying to rationalize, Zoe managed to choke out a “Is…Death here for someone in this room?!”
“Is Death going to effect someone in this room?”
That got us to all calm down slightly, but….We were literally just told DEATH IS AMONG US. We were still freaking out, and were trying to figure out what Kevin meant by that. After a while though, something clicked.
“Kevin? Does Death just have to be with you in order for you to talk to us?”
THIS LITERAL GODDAMN GHOST GOT PISSED OFF AT US.
AND SAW THE OPPORTUNITY TO FUCKING TROLL A BUNCH OF SHITTY TEENS.
AND HE GODDAMN TOOK IT.
I HAVE NEVER RESPECTED A MAN MORE IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. I STILL CANNOT GET OVER THIS. Eternal hats off to you, Kevin, oh my God.
We all slowly recovered from that scare, a little more wary about pissing Kevin off but also…more curious, because there was a lot to ask and a lot he seemed to want to hide.
“Um…so is Heaven and all that real?”
A very, very long pause. Zoe and Ian almost went to recharge and try a new question, but then it slowly slide over to ‘YES’.
The pause seemed to make it clear it wasn’t something he really wanted to go into. But, “So…what’s Heaven like?”
A long pause. …D…R…E…A…M.
“…And…is hell real?”
The planchette immediately flew around the board, spelling: …N…I…G…H…T…M…A…R…E.
None of us really knew what to say about that.
We asked a few more questions, but Kevin still didn’t want to talk about himself that much. He liked talking about Evan, though (After this night, we had a running joke for a little bit about ‘cant believe we’re shipping Ian with a ghost’. There were some ‘implications’ I remember we all picked up on) But he still avoided questions pertaining to him. Zoe had a very worried look on her face around this point. She had been very curious about Kevin’s unwillingness to talk about certain topics, and things were slowly piecing together in her mind. She tried once more to get answers. “Kevin, I’m really sorry for asking, but I just- Um, I’m sorry, but did you kill yourself?”
There was a bright flash in the room.
That made everyone jump and look around- we had caught it in the window, but we couldn’t see anyone outside or around the house. Zoe’s parents and brother were upstairs. We couldn’t find anything that would have caused it. It was just a flash, but we were completely alone and with the timing of the question…Well, everyone was unsettled about it.
We eventually settled back down and recharged the board. “Kevin?…Did you?”
Slowly, it slid towards the ‘YES’.
“…Because Evan died?”
“And…that meant you couldn’t be reborn?”
It stayed still.
I had a very sick, sinking feeling in my stomach at this- I’d gone to Catholic school for 9 years, and I knew suicide is classified as a sin. In the more modern times the Church stopped being awful about it, always prayed for suicide victims and didn’t deny them burials anymore and always told the families the same spiel about being in God’s hands, but…It was still considered a mortal sin none the less. I told the group as much.
Zoe said in a small voice “Were you…in hell?”
A long pause. ‘YES’.
“Um…for how long?”
“That’s why you’re not a guardian angel then? Because you were in hell?”
“How did you…get out to find Ian?”
We’d all been on edge with the turn of the conversation, but that. Fuck. I nearly lost it at that. Zoe and the other’s asked who Lilith was, because she’s not common curriculum, but, well, short story answer- She was created before Eve, but she didn’t want to submit to Adam, so she was tortured to give birth to a dead child every day, but other accounts and stories of her do go on to say she became a lead torturer/essentially queen of hell. Fucking.
“Lilith let you out of hell?”
“Why? Like what for?”
“You don’t….You have no idea why they let you out?”
“So you found Ian and became his…Guardian demon? Is that a thing?”
“Does everyone have one?”
“Do I have an angel or a demon?”
Zoe, even though she’d been talking to a seemingly reasonable demon all night, looked a little worried about that. Back then we had a running joke in our friend group that Zoe was Satan, and well “Um, do I have a demon because of all the jokes I make?”
“Um??? I’m sorry? Fuck.”
We were all a little #shook but trying not to laugh at the look on her face at that. She went on to check with Kevin that having a demon instead of an angel didn’t actually mean anything bad, she wasn’t in like, undead trouble or anything, the only difference is the demons are usually working off a debt or something versus the angels not…But when Zoe and I were going over this the other day, she did suddenly realize that she hasn’t made a single Satan joke since this night and she’d ‘feel weird if one was made now’. Make of that what you will.
He said me and the other girls all had Angels (Shoutout to you, Sarah! I’m still kicking at 22!).
Patricia, however, wanted some proof that ‘Helena’ existed and was there for her. Which is reasonable. She asked if her angel wanted to tell her anything. There was a brief pause before the planchette spelled out: …E…R…I…K…I…S…G…O…O…D.
We were y e l l i n g. Listen, I know that’s clearly not going to be convincing evidence to a bunch of random people reading this, but basically Erik had been dating her best friend at the time and she was just…Very worried about the relationship. Very worried. For many reasons.‘Erik is good’ is exactly the thing she needed to hear from a guardian angel. (And, spoiler alert from two years in the future: he IS good!) But like. She teared up hearing that. It was nice.
We tried to stray into lighter topics than the whole hell thing, because, again, fuck- I remember thinking to myself at some point ‘this poor guy is after-living the plot to a really great book’- but none of us wanted to upset him again and none of us wanted to get anymore upset ourselves. Liz had already had a panic attack by this point (the hell talk obviously got to her), and she was actively trying not to sob as she asked if she could speak to any passed on family members. We were told pretty much everyone gets reborn and there was no one else around except for Kevin and the other guardians (and good ole’ Death, of course).
Ian’s got a big birthmark on his face, right? It’s adorable and we often made a lot of jokes about it (fondly), so at some point, while trying to stay on lighter topics, someone asked ‘Did Ian have that birthmark in his past life?‘
Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever heard about that theory that birthmarks have to do with how you died in a past life, but….shook. We all started trying to figure out if we had any meaningful birthmarks. Zoe got further freaked out because she has one on her wrist and one on her temple. What the fuck did she theoretically get up to in a past life?
That was the last really substantial thing he gave us, all the other questions tapered off so we could try to pretend we hadn’t learned we were talking to a demon who went to hell for no seemingly good reason and also no one would be able to talk to dead loved ones. After we finally came to a loss for questions, and people started having to leave- we just did the proper ‘goodbye’ and everything, followed all the rules, put the board away and split up. Liz was still drying her eyes when she left. Ian was mumbling to himself and swearing up and down he didn’t fake all that. Zoe was frantically researching the information we received and kept repeating that that was the craziest fucking thing that ever happened to her (and she actually did find some thread about guardian demons). We talked about it for a bit before I went home.
And, it’s like…Again, this could be nothing. But it doesn’t feel like nothing. It feels like a shifted view because…Even if it’s not real, it’s still an outlook on the afterlife that I had never considered before, and it’s…horrifying? This whole night I’ve just never been able to shake, I can’t get it out of my head, because if it is true? Fuck. If it’s true, fuck. The whole drive home I couldn’t help but think ‘ignorance is bliss’.
It just left me with so many questions, questions I literally don’t think you can get the answers to until it’s too late, and…I don’t know what to do about that.
can we have a moment of silence to thank taylor swift for fourteen (14) things: mine, sparks fly, back to december, speak now, dear john, mean, the story of us, never grow up, enchanted, better than revenge, innocent, haunted, last kiss, and long live
and let’s thank her for five (5) more things: ours, if this was a movie, superman, back to december (acoustic), and haunted (acoustic)
Imagine: Being the communications specialist with Shiro and Matt at the garrison.
Warning: Just a little making out ;)
AN: Hey guys! I hope you all like this one, let me know what you liked, or if you have any requests!
His lips felt like fire on her skin. There was no pulling away at this point, not that it even crossed her mind. The feeling of his body pressed against hers, his thigh positioned between her legs, how his fingers gripped her hips, all of it made it impossible to think of anything else, but how good it felt. This was definitely against protocol, the small portion of her brain that has retained its sanity thought in the back of her head. It all felt like a deram. And if it was she never wanted to wake up.
She and Shiro were on the same flight team at the garrison. He was the pilot, and she, his communications specialist. They were also accompanied by an engineer by the name of Matt Holt, she swore he was some kind of genius, it was the only explanation for how smart he was. They had all been friends, but with the hours spent in the flight simulator, the late night study sessions, the constant contact between them, they became much more than that. The connection between her and Shiro was unshakable, you would never see one without the other, inseparable. It wasn’t until their third year at the garrison, did they notice a change in their dynamic. They weren’t the only ones to notice this change, Matt knew something was going on between them, even if they didn’t know exactly what.
For weeks, it was nothing but chaos. Longing stares from across the room, lingering touches, constant blushing, all at the expense of Matt’s sanity. There was a time when the two of you could barely be in the same room, in fear that in your clumsy state, someone could get hurt. Matt didn’t mind at first, that is until your team failed the flight simulator, putting a permanent ‘F’ on his record. Shiro had gotten distracted by you, in the middle of the mission, when you cut your hand on a stray screw driver, causing Shiro to panic, and in the end, sent their team crashing to the ground in a blazing fireball. He’d had enough.
He told you both to meet him in room B26, to go over what went wrong, and finish the mission report on the simulation failure. Each of you feeling a different kind of shame in the failure of the basic sim, and each feeling that it was your fault things had gone south.
The next morning when you arrived at the room, you met with Shiro on the way, but neither of you could stand to meet the other’s gaze. Too embarrassed to think it was your lack to self control that had ruined the mission. Keeping your head bowed, you both entered the room, the first thing you noticed was how cold and damp it was, the lights were off making it hard to see exactly where you were. Shiro’s shins came in contact with a mop bucket, sending it skidding across the floor.
“What the- “ he began, his eyes adjusting enough to see the shelves that lined the walls, filled different cleaning supplies. “Is this… a Janitor’s closet?” thinking that they must have walked into the wrong room, Shiro turned to exit, only to have the door slammed in his face. Shocked, he rushed forward testing the doorknob, and finding it locked. Thinking it must have been an accident, he slammed his fist against the metal door trying to get the attention of whoever had closed the door.
“Hey! We are in here! The door is locked, can you open it?” he called, hoping they were still close enough to hear him. There was a moment of silence, before they heard a familiar voice reply.
“I’m not letting you out until you two work this out! I don’t know what is going on with you buys, but whatever ‘it’ is, fix it! I am not going to get another ‘F’ in that stupid simulator, just because you two are acting like lovesick teenagers!” Matt’s voice was filled with a mix of anger and frustration. There was another pause, followed by what Shiro assumed was a sigh. “I’ll be back in an hour.” he said more calmly before walking away, ignoring the protests from his teammates.
They spent the next 10 minutes searching for another way out, only finding 4 metal walls all lined with janitorial equipment, and an air vent, too small for either of them to fit through. Shiro was sure Matt had picked this room specifically for that reason, no way to escape. Giving up on that idea, they resorted to searching for a light switch, their eyes adjusting enough to see outlines in the darkness but not much else. The tension in the room was palpable, neither of them trusting themselves to address the elephant in the room, why they were locked in here in the first place, they both knew what Matt had said was true, but were not willing to address it as the problem it was. Until the pressure got the better of them.
“I’m sorry.” you both blurted out at the same time. Fumbling to recover, you turned to continue, but your foot caught on the bucket Shiro had knocked over earlier, sending you sprawling on the floor.
“(Y/N)! Are you okay?!” Shiro asked rushing over to where he had heard you fall. Unfortunately, instead of helping you, he stepped on your hand. You cried out again, cradling your hand to your chest as you pushed back against the wall, pulling your knees in. Shiro’s heart felt like it was in his throat, how had he managed to mess this up even more?
“Oh God, (Y/N) I’m so sorry!” he stammered his panic rising up. Standing where he was he ran a shaking hand through his hair. He didn’t dare move again, scared that he would accidentally hurt you again, instead he decided to speak, and once he started, he couldn’t stop, everything just poured out of his mouth.
“This is all my fault. I just really like you, and you’re so pretty, and smart, and when you smile it makes my stomach go crazy, and you’re laugh, oh god, your laugh! It’s the best thing I’ve ever heard! It’s just so hard for me to think when you’re around, my brain goes all fuzzy and I can’t focus on anything else. God, I should have known better, i should have tried harder to hide my feelings, or i should have transfered as soon as I realized I loved you, and, and now we are stuck in here, and you’re hurt and-” in the darkness, you made out his outline, and rose to your feet, equal parts shocked and thrilled to hear what he was saying. Reaching out you placed your hand on the side of his face, rendering him silent. You couldn’t see his face, and you prayed he couldn’t see yours, you could feel your cheeks reddening as you drew closer. He could feel you coming closer, your hand gliding over his face, your fingertips tracing the outline of his lips. You felt his warm breath against your fingers, as you moved your hand to the base of his neck, standing on your toes. You hesitated, your lips stopping just shy of his.
Swallowing his nerves, Shiro closed the remaining distance, capturing your lips with his. In that moment it was like a fire was lit between you. His hands were on you in an instant, pulling you closer as his mouth moved against yours. Pressing forward, you stumbled back, your shoulders hitting the metal walls of the room hard. Shiro only paused for a moment before he was on you again, pinning your body to the wall with his own. His fingers gripped your sides, pawing at the material of your uniform. Pressing closer, he fit himself against you, a leg between yours, his hips against yours, like fitting puzzle pieces together. His lips pulled away from yours, only to attach to the exposed skin on your neck. He groaned into the hollow of your neck, as you raked your fingers through his hair, pulling on it slightly.
The heat between you continued to grow, and the once cold room felt like a furnace. So consumed in the moment, you both failed to notice the door to the room slide open. Matt caught site of the two of you, and paused for just a moment, as his mind registered the situation. Shaking his head, he crossed his arms over his chest, before clearing his throat. And just as quickly as it had started, the trance was broken. Shiro tore his body away from yours, his hair was sticking up in odd directions from where you fingers had mused it. While you pushed yourself off the wall, trying to stop your knees from shaking, and straighten your uniform at the same time, the small marks on your neck beginning to form. Both of your lips were swollen, and your faces were red, and in Matt’s opinion, you both looked thoroughly kissed. An amused smile pulled at Matt’s lips as he watched the two of you fumble to compose yourselves. No one spoke for a long moment, until finally, Matt broke the ice.
“Well,” he began, his voice eerily calm. “I can’t say that I didn’t see this coming, cause I did, and for that reason, I planned ahead. Because if ‘this’” he gestured between the two of you quirking an eyebrow. “Is going to happen, there need to be some ground rules.” stepping forward, he reached into his bag and pulled out a large 3 ring binder, shoving it into Shiro’s chest, who caught it quickly, looking down at the cover.
“‘Rules and guidelines of dating a teammate’” he read aloud, lifting his eyes questioningly to Matt.
“Volume 1?” you read over Shiro’s arm. “How many volumes are there?” you asked watching Shiro flip through the pages, each filled with words, and some having charts and pictures… this was obviously something Matt had put time into, and it definitely took longer than the hour they had been in there.
“There are 2 others back in my room, but I haven’t finished editing them.” Matt answered calmly. You nearly choked, and Shiro swallowed thickly, his eyes wide. Indifferent, Matt continued. “Also, there will be a quiz, so I would suggest going on a ‘study date’ instead of making out in a janitor’s closet.” you heaved a sigh, before turning your eyes to Shiro, a smile pulled at you lips, despite the obvious dislike of the situation.
“I’m free tonight.” you said, Shiro’s heart skipped a beat. He would read 50 of Matt’s ridiculous rule books, if it meant he got to see you smile like that again.
We stumbled on a sleeping (enemy) Minotaur and our sorcerer decided to charm it, so we could get him to assist in fighting through the dungeon and so he wouldn’t kill us.
Our horrifically violent shunned Gnome monk decided we could eat him if that didn’t work out.
3 dungeon rooms in, I suddenly name him Mike, as he’s helped us and is now injured in the line of duty.
Cleric: “Should I heal Mike?”
*DM rolls dice, looks up and grins silently*
Me (woodland based druid): “I think Mike is becoming slightly, uhh…disenchanted(?) with us.”
Sorcerer: “I pat Mike on the shoulder, say ‘Good fight buddy, thanks!’…then cast shocking grasp”
DM: “He’s stunned.”
Ranger: “I’m going to put him out of his misery before he kills us. I’ll roll to slit his throat.”
*rolls nat20, doing 48 damage*
DM: “You completely sever his head. Well done, you killed your buddy, Mike.”
Me: “A moment of silence for Mike’s friendship and sacrifice.”
*Silence, some giggling*
Gnome Monk: “Did the electrocution cook him, at all?”
Me: “Don’t be so dishonourable, he’s barely fallen to the floor! I’ll pour one out for you, Mike.”
Me:“Wait, can we use Mike’s skull as a helmet for Goat*?!”
*Goat is a…well, super healed goat with slightly vague supernatural intelligence and a full set of armour. This is what happened when you have the rule “If you can make the story good enough, you can do it.”
(this is my first masterpost sorry if it’s bad) A bullet journal has a lot of uses. A planner, homework reminders, to-do lists- but understandably, some pages could use a little of inspiration. And what better inspiration than from artists? Even without a bullet journal, quotes can be a great thing to decorate journals, your room, etcetera. So, I’ve compiled a list of quotes (some aren’t very motivational) by some of your favorite artists!
VINCENT VAN GOGH
“I dream of painting and then I paint my dream.”
“What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?”
“Great things are done by a series of small things brought together.”
“I wish they would only take me as I am.”
“In spite of everything I shall rise again; I will take up my pencil, which I have forsaken in my great discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing.”
“I see drawings and pictures in the poorest of huts and the dirtiest of corners.”
“One must work and dare if one really wants to live.”
“For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.“
“I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.”
“Be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high. Then life seems almost enchanted after all.“
“If you truly love nature, you will find beauty everywhere.”
“I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart.”
“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.“
“Art is a lie that makes us realize truth.”
“Everything you can imagine is real.“
“Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”
“Action is the foundational key to all success.“
"It takes a long time to become young.”
“Youth has no age.”
“Art is the elimination of the unnecessary.”
“Sculpture is the art of the intelligence.”
“Are we to paint what’s on the face, what’s inside the face, or what’s behind it?”
“Give me a museum and I’ll fill it.”
“To copy others is necessary, but to copy oneself is pathetic.”
“Have no fear of perfection - you’ll never reach it.“
"Drawing is the honesty of the art. There is no possibility of cheating. It is either good or bad.”
“Those who do not want to imitate anything, produce nothing.”
“Intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings.”
“There is only one difference between a madman and me. The madman thinks he is sane. I know I am mad.”
“What is important is to spread confusion, not eliminate it.”
“I am not strange. I am just not normal.”
“It is not necessary for the public to know whether I am joking or whether I am serious, just as it is not necessary for me to know it myself.”
“Everything alters me, but nothing changes me.”
“So little of what could happen does happen.”
“Give me two hours a day of activity, and I’ll take the other twenty-two in dreams.”
“The secret of my influence has always been that it remained secret.”
“The painting has a life of its own. I try to let it come through.”
“Painting is self-discovery. Every good artist paints what he is.”
“My painting does not come from the easel.”
“When I am in my painting, I’m not aware of what I’m doing.”
“Love is friendship set to music.”
“The painter locks himself out of his own studio. And then has to break in like a thief.”
“The modern artist is working with space and time, and expressing his feelings rather than illustrating.”
“Energy and motion made visible- memories arrested in space.”
“Abstract painting is abstract. It confronts you. There was a reviewer a while back who wrote my pictures didn’t have any beginning or any end. He didn’t mean it as a compliment, but it was.”
“I’m very representational some of the time, and a little all of the time. But when you’re painting out of your unconscious, figures are bound to emerge.”
“Abstract art should be enjoyed just as music is enjoyed- ater awhile you may like it or you may not.”
“Each age finds its own technique… I mean, the strangeness will wear off and I think we will discover the deeper meanings in modern art.“
“I must have flowers always and always.”
“Color is my daylong obsession, joy and torment.“
“Everyone discusses my art and pretends to understand, as if it were necessary to understand, when it is simply necessary to love.”
“My garden is my most beautiful masterpiece.“
“I would like to paint the way a bird sings.”
“The more I live, the more I regret how little I know.“
“I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.”
“I can only draw what I see.“
“What keeps my heart awake is colorful silence.”
“The richness I achieve comes from nature, the source of my inspiration.“
“I don’t think I’m made for any earthly kind of pleasure.”
“The light constantly changes, and that alters the atmosphere and beauty of things every minute.“
“Nobody sees a flower- really- it is so small it takes time- we haven’t time - and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time.”
“If you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it’s your world for a moment.”
“I wish people were all trees and I think I could enjoy them then.”
“To create one’s world in any of the arts takes courage.”
“I decided to accept as true my own thinking.”
“You are one of my nicest thoughts.”
“It’s not enough to be nice in life. You’ve got to have nerve.”
“I found I could say things with color and shapes that I couldn’t say any other way… things I had no words for.”
“I think it’s so foolish for people to want to be happy. Happy is so momentary–you’re happy for an instant and then you start thinking again. Interest is the most important thing in life; happiness is temporary, but interest is continuous.”
“Where I was born and where and how I have lived is unimportant. It is what I have done with where I have been that should be of interest.”
“I can’t live where I want to, I can’t go where I want to go, I can’t do what I want to, I can’t even say what I want to. I decided I was a very stupid fool not to at least paint as I wanted to.”
“I’m frightened all the time. But I never let it stop me. Never!”
LEONARDO DA VINCI
“Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.”
“As a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so a life well spent brings happy death.”
“Art is never finished, only abandoned.”
“Why does the eye see a thing more clearly in dreams than the imagination when awake?”
“Tears come from the heart and not from the brain.”
“Nothing strengthens authority so much as silence.”
“The noblest pleasure is the joy of understanding.”
“Learning never exhausts the mind.”
“While I thought I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die.”
“Study without desire spoils the memory, and it retains nothing that it takes in.”
“I love those who can smile in trouble…”
“It is easier to resist at the beginning than at the end.”
“I don’t paint dreams or nightmares, I paint my own reality.”
“I paint flowers so they will not die.”
“I paint myself because I am so often alone and because the subject I know best.”
“I think that little by little I’ll be able to solve my problems and survive.”
I keep mentioning ‘Thursday Night Dinner at the Byers’ in all of my Stranger Things fics (here, here, and here) and, like, I just realized this is my random ass season 3 headcanon and I should probably explain it:
Hopper means it when he says he shouldn’t have lied to her. That there are a lot of things he should’ve done differently. But he also knows that he’d do anything to keep her safe, that if Owens suggests one year then he’s gonna go with one year. But he keeps his promise and things are different this time around.
He suggests Thursday dinners at the Byers house as a way for El to see her friends. He can’t very well take her over to the Wheeler’s house and the cabin is too far away to bike to every day and there’s no way in hell he’s shuttling kids back and forth to his house all the time, so he sets up a weekly dinner at the Byers because it just makes the most sense. Nancy can bring Mike, he can bring El and no one will ever suspect anything.
He doesn’t think too deeply about the fact that no one questions, that no one even seems all that surprised about the fact that he’s going to weekly dinners at Joyce’s house. Flo takes to telling him to say hi to Joyce for her, encouraging him to dress up nicer on Thursday nights and goddammit Flo, for the last time there’s nothing wrong with what I wear.
Except that at some point, he does make it a point to rush home early on Thursdays and change out of his work clothes into something that’s ironed and not khaki.
Jonathan is the one that cooks most nights and he has to admit that the kid is a damn good cook. Hopper makes El and Mike and Will set the table so that Joyce doesn’t have to worry about rushing home from work and taking care of it. He always helps her with the dishes afterwards, while Mike and Nancy and Jonathan and Will take turns tutoring El.
Nancy bargains for a movie night every other week after dinner rather than tutoring and he gives in because she gives him these huge puppy dog eyes and he can literally feel Joyce laughing at him as he begrudgingly says yes. They take turns picking movies, though he always gives his turn to Eleven.